As Galgariel made its way through the countless mingling foliage of the Wife's upper mantle, the demon felt a familiar sensation amidst the botanical chaos. Faint. Behind something. That overgrown wall there, a mossy locked gate was hiding something from us, it thought. Although it was still regrowing from the forced entry earlier the demon used its good - or rather, its available arm - to pry open the sealed door to satisfy its curiosity. What would lurk in such a distant vessel that would invoke such a familiar feeling in its body?

The demon got its answer right away. Hidden beneath layers of arcane suppression lied a tube, turquoise fluid dimly lighting the pitch black room around it, dozens of ridged wires snaking from the bottom of the pillar, inside which floated a bulbous spiked specimen shaped like a twisted magic scepter. All too familiar features. Galgariel's mangled visage contorted into what few would dare call a smile.

"Oh, Wizard!" it crooned, "What were you up to for all these years with this?"

Galgariel shifted its lost right arm, this phantom limb would soon be exorcised as the beast smashed the tube open, the flow of rushing fluids joining the chorus of dull hums within the insulated chamber where the two pieces reunited. The demon felt a new sensation as the scepter grew into its shoulder, forming a more refined, ornate appendage. With a heavy swing of its arm the monster expelled a light blue fluid from its palm which hissed against the back wall, glowing as it stuck to the metallic surface. Ranged attacks were a new addition to the beast's arsenal, one only the most depraved of makers would add to such a monstrosity.

But it found a body now, the Wizard's unknown research bore fruit. Galgariel left a message ultimately only for itself, but amusing nonetheless.

---

W4TCH3R's sensors pinged. An older sensor, one that hadn't been used for centuries. Which sector of the Wife even was that, again? The AI was surprised that even remained functional to alert it. That fungal creature that attacked the Garage earlier, W4TCH3R remembered why it felt familiar.

The Wizard rarely kept secrets from his assistant, but some rooms were encrypted from its more advanced monitoring. Private studies? There was only so much it could learn without its master, speculation wouldn't mean much this far removed from the master's disappearance. What roams the halls of the Wife as its doors continue opening for its visitors?